Blurred Lines

After getting married, things have changed for your all-time favorite blogger (me). Not, like, relationship-wise. Nope, Geo and I are pretty much the same as we were BEFORE the ol' ball and chains were clamped on. No, the changes are more like "Time to sign up for wife-y stuff"-wise. Betty Draper-style stuff. You know what I mean? No? Let me explain.

I found myself looking up egg bake recipes tonight. And Googling how to make cute Christmas ornaments with only a bobbin, some pie crust and a hair pin. Making plans to start a book club. Wondering if Miley Cyrus might, in fact, be a bad influence on a child. Gross stuff like that.

For many posts recently, I realize that I have been talking about this whole growing-up thing. I have fought it, denied it and laughed at it, but I'm worried that my recent behavior has made it seem like I'm embracing it. Am I? Could that be true? Is this real life?

As I mentioned, I have started engaging in some troubling behavior as of late. I have voluntarily taken part in traditions that I previously shunned because I was too busy, too single and too...desperate to not conform. Now they seem, I dunno, fun, maybe! And I have decided that it might NOT be a bad idea to have a go-to egg dish to bring to a potluck. Before recently, that sounded cliche and predictable. Now it just seems...like planning ahead.

Who knows what is happening to me. I've read about 2 1/2 sentences on Stockholm Syndrome, and maybe that's what I have. Maybe I've been spending so much time around sane, normal, married people who DON'T fall asleep with their foot in a Lean Cuisine dish on the couch and maybe I've started to see their point.

Maybe it's affected my blogging too. I'll clear out my inbox now (at pharonsquare@gmail.com, FYI) for the inevitable hate mail here, but I'm thinking that getting married has made me...boring. Less fun. Less ridiculous. Less likely to spar with roommates or end up at some ridiculous bar with drinks named after American Apparel executives or whatever. More likely to listen to NPR. On purpose.

It's been a tough pill to swallow. I wanted to write a whole post about those dumb Miller Lite punch-top cans that I'm pretty sure I hate, but I haven't even gotten a chance to actually test drive the ridiculous product because grownups DON'T order Miller Lite, and if they do, they don't need some dumb punch-top to show them how to shotgun it. How will I complain about something I haven't even tried? (LOL. I complain about stuff I've never tried all the time...hybrid cars, Pilates, breastfeeding...)

Anyway, I have no plans to turn this blog into some rendition of the Happy Homemaker Starts Her Third House Fire With a Hot Glue Gun And/Or A Stove, so I'm going to have to regroup a bit. I think this might involve me trying some of the new, ridiculous things that married folks do...like making a budget, trying to sleep without my blankie (yeah, right), assigning chores and exploring new depths of sober Scrabble. I'm scared. So, yeah. Stay tuned.